


Want to Kiss the Sky

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2010-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Better learn how to kneel. On your knees, boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Want to Kiss the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://turlough.livejournal.com/profile)[**turlough**](http://turlough.livejournal.com/) who wanted semi-public blowjobs. But then, don't we all?

  
Gabe’s been watching Gerard.

He watches all the bands, it’s sort of his thing, but when My Chem’s on stage, he watches _Gerard_ Which is pretty impressive considering Frank’s a fucking whirlwind of crazy and Ray shreds harder than anyone else in the universe as far as Gabe can tell, and Mikey’s a world unto himself. But Gabe watches Gerard, because Gerard has _something_. It’s not quite confidence because he definitely doesn’t have that. He’s got bravado and booze and bullshit that he uses as a shield, throwing out all the things he probably wishes he could have said back in high school. But it’s like, underneath the layer of baby fat and shyness and uncertainty, there’s this other Gerard.

And Gabe has to admit that, after studying philosophy and auditing a couple of psychology classes, that mixture of Gerard’s is potent. Who he is, who he wants to be, and who he pretends to be on the journey to get there strikes a chord with Gabe that makes him itch to see what’s underneath the surface. It’s a bad habit, because people don’t like relative strangers digging beneath their skin to find out who they are inside, but Gabe’s got charisma and confidence and just about everything Gerard lacks so people usually don’t notice he’s well past their point of no return until he’s already waded through their Rubicon and gone skinny dipping in their psyche.

Gerard watches Gabe too, only he’s blatant about it. At parties and after sets, between breaking down and hitting the road, he’s always got his eyes on Gabe over the rim of one plastic cup or another. Gabe tries to gauge what he’s drinking by the color of the cup and by the way Gerard gets drunk, if he’s friendly or angry or affectionate or horny or if he draws in on himself and someone has to figure out who Mikey’s hooked up with so they can find him and get him to get Gerard back where they need him to be.

Right now they’re all back stage at the 9:30 Club in DC, and there’s more booze than any of them actually know what to do with, though they’re all trying their damnedest. Gerard is telling everyone he’s drunker than he’s ever been and there’s the sickly sweet smell of pot in the air. Gerard’s leaning on James, heavy and emphatic as he talks about something Gabe can’t quite hear. Gabe watches them from his spot against the wall, his own drink barely touched.

“Hey, Saporta.” Mikey bumps Gabe’s shoulder and steals his drink, emptying half the cup in one long swallow. “Good show tonight.”

“Good show every night, Mikeyway. For I am Gabe Saporta. And we are Midtown.” He proclaims it, intoning from on high and Mikey giggles like Gabe knew he would. He and Mikey go way back, further than him and Gerard, but not by much. Mikey’s a buddy. Gerard’s always been on the outskirts, hanging on by virtue of being related to Mikey, though now his name usually comes first when people start talking. A few people have started rumors, that Mikey’s pissed at Gerard for claiming the spotlight, but anyone who really knows Mikey knows that he’s happier being in Gerard’s shadow than he would be anywhere else in the world. Mikey needs the music, and the fact that he has it _and_ his older brother means Mikey’s probably the happiest guy in the world most of the time. “Also, you owe me a drink.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mikey leans against him and the wall, surveying the crowd. “You have plans for tonight?”

Gabe doesn’t, at least not until that moment, when Gerard turns and looks at him, eyes narrowing as he follows the line of Gabe’s arm where it’s draped over Mikey’s shoulders. “Maybe. You?”

“Over there. Black tank top.”

“Hot.”

“Yeah.” Mikey grins up at him, pushing his glasses up with the hand still holding the cup. Economical, since he can just drop it down a few inches for another drink. “Don’t be jealous, Gabanti.”

“Hey, I had Mikeyway before anyone else in this room. They’re _all_ getting my sloppy seconds. Or would be, if you were sloppy.”

Mikey scrunches his face. “I think I’ve been both complimented and insulted.”

“Pretty much.”

“Good enough.” Mikey pushes off the wall and heads toward his black tank top. Gabe doesn’t bother watching. He’s seen Mikey work, and no one’s ever turned Mikey down to Gabe’s knowledge, so it’s sort of like shooting fish in a barrel. Instead he turns his gaze back to Gerard. He’s still leaning on Dewees, but his center of gravity has changed so now his body is canted in Gabe’s direction. Like Mikey said, good enough.

He pushes off the wall and leaves the room, heading down the hallway toward the stage. The club is empty except for the staff, and the hallway is quiet, almost dark. It doesn’t take long before he hears the footsteps, slightly hesitant and uncertain. He turns his head and smiles, watching Gerard watch him.

“Hey.”

Gerard nods, though he looks startled at first. “You left the party.”

“I did.” Gabe smiles and he sees Gerard’s shoulders relax slightly. Maybe Mikey’s not the only one shooting fish in a barrel. “You followed me.”

“I did.” Gerard nods and rises up on his toes then rocks back onto his heels. He takes ‘functional alcoholic’ to a new level. “I should…”

“Come here.”

“Oh. Okay. Yes.” He walks over toward Gabe and stops a few inches away. He takes a drink from the cup in his hand and Gabe can smell the vodka, can practically taste it in the back of his throat.

“You’re gonna want to put the cup down.” He doesn’t give Gerard a chance to do that or even ask why before he closes the distance between them, pushing Gerard against the wall. His hands are solid on Gerard’s slumped shoulders, and he pushes until he’s standing up straight, looking at Gabe with wide eyes. Gabe shakes his head and leans in, sliding his tongue across vodka-sweet lips before pushing it into Gerard’s warm, open mouth.

Gerard groans and Gabe hears the splash of liquid as the cup falls to the floor. Gerard’s hands take a moment to find purchase, moving the air around them until they settle on Gabe’s arms, fingers digging into the his black shirt. He takes his time, eyes closed and kissing slowly, tasting all the sweet-sourness of Gerard’s mouth. Booze and spit and breath and cigarettes and eventually it all melts into just kissing, Gerard’s tongue tangling with his, tentative at first and then with more aggression.

It’s exactly what Gabe expected from the way Gerard is on stage, present and _there_ no matter what chemicals are clogging up his system. Gabe slides his hands from Gerard’s shoulders to his neck, curving one hand around the back of his throat, thumb rubbing over the pounding pulse while the other threads up into his hair, damp with sweat. Gerard edges forward, pressing against Gabe, his own hands sliding off Gabe’s arms to his hips, catching him there and hooking fingers in Gabe’s belt loops to hold him.

Gabe shifts his stance, sliding one knee between Gerard’s legs, his thigh against the hard press of Gerard’s erection through his jeans. Gerard makes a noise, a stuttering moan that shivers down Gabe’s spine. He grinds against Gerard’s thigh in return, his own dick swollen in response. He follows the dried trails of sweat from Gerard’s nape down his neck to his shirt, then down lower, working his hand between them to unfasten Gerard’s jeans. He can feel Gerard’s pulse jump, quickening as he slides the zipper down.

“Oh god. We’re…but…” Gabe silences him with another kiss and then sinks to his knees, his hand raking slow paths down Gerard’s chest. “Oh god.” Gerard watches him, and Gabe can see the mix of emotions cross his face, in his eyes. Fear and want and confusion and uncertainty and hope all flash like lightning, then he closes his eyes as Gabe breathes against him through the fabric of his shorts. “Oh _fuck_.”

Gerard stays quiet enough that Gabe can still hear the party not ten feet from them, the sounds of laughter and music and the clink of bottles, but he focuses on Gerard and the sounds he’s making as Gabe tugs his shorts out of the way, pushing them and his jeans down to the upper curve of his thighs, his thumbs finding the pulse points one either side of Gerard’s dick as he takes him in his mouth.

“Oh _holy fucking god_.” Gerard gasps and then shoves the ball of his fist between his teeth, his hips jerking forward. Gabe holds him still, fingers digging into Gerard’s hips as he sucks at the head, teasing the slit with his tongue before taking him deeper, going slow. Gerard tastes like sweat and musk and smells like more, like performing, like the stage. He fights against Gabe’s grip, trying to thrust deeper. Gabe holds him, fingers pushing harder to keep him still, and Gabe can hear the moan, even though Gerard does his best to muffle it.

It’s easy to tell what Gerard likes from how he twists against Gabe’s hands, thrusting and writhing, earning him hard bruises on his hips. Gabe’s tongue slides along the underside of Gerard’s dick, holding it to the roof of Gabe’s mouth, his cheeks hollowing with suction. He keeps his eyes open, watching Gerard’s reactions, watching the blown-out heat of his eyes as he stares at Gabe, whispering against his fist, muttering Gabe’s name in the middle of a rain of “oh fuck” and “oh yes” and “god, _please_ ”.

Gabe pulls back, holding just the head in his mouth for a moment before taking him deep again and Gerard slams his head back against the wall, dropping both hands to Gabe’s hair, fisting them in it. He tugs hard enough to hurt, which just makes Gabe suck harder, dig his fingers in until Gerard’s making soft little groans, whimpering with every jerk of his hips.

“Close, oh god, oh god, oh god.” His head thumps backwards again and he jerks forward sharply, coming hot and thick against Gabe’s tongue. Gabe swallows him down, sucking him deeper still even as Gerard’s skin goes slack against his tongue. He’s breathing hard, riding the edge of sensation as Gabe keeps sucking. He finally shoves him back, gasping for breath and shivering. “Oh god, stop. Stop. Please fucking stop.”

Gabe smirks, sitting back on his heels. “I’m not actually doing anything at this point.”

“You’re…being you. That’s just…” He tugs his shorts back up and then manages to look at Gabe. Gabe knows how he must look – hair tugged into tufts and peaks from Gerard’s hands, mouth red and wet and swollen. He licks his lips and Gerard waves his hands in Gabe’s direction. “You.”

He can’t help the laugh that slips out as he gets to his feet, leaning into Gerard again and kissing him, fucking the taste of Gerard’s come into his mouth. “I’ll work on that.”

“Yeah.” Gerard exhales, his hand tentative as he reaches out to touch Gabe. Gabe aches and Gerard’s touch just makes it worse, his dick throbbing with want. But the door to the dressing room opens and Gabe pulls back.

“Hey.” Rob’s eyes are glazed in the dim light. “We’re about to head out. You ready, Gabanti.”

“Yeah.” He smiles at Gerard then heads back toward the dressing room. “You can get me next time, huh?”

“Next time? I mean...there’s going…um…Next time. Um. Yes. Yeah. Next time.” Gabe looks back, and Gerard is nodding emphatically. He smiles as he meets Gabe’s eyes. “Definitely.”  



End file.
